


Compasion and Circumstance

by bluetoast



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Thor, Laufey's Good Parenting, Odin's A+ Parenting, baby Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5220032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Odin found baby Loki in the temple, he had a vision of what the infant would bring to Asgard. Instead of putting him gently back down into his hiding place, he dropped him as if he were worthless. When Laufey finds his gravely injured son, he cannot imagine why other realms think he and his people are the monsters. Prompt from norsekink.</p><p>Written for hc_bingo. Prompt: Forced Soulbinding</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compasion and Circumstance

The temple was almost warm. Sheltered from the bitter early winter winds of Jotunheim, it hadn't taken any direct hits from the Bifrost, but the ice windows were gone, shaken free from their mountings and shattered on the stone below. But the thick walls remained standing, here and there an upturned bench lay, and if it were not for the pungent scent of funeral pyres drifting through the empty casings, one might think that the realm had experienced an earthquake, not a war. 

Odin had given Heimdall orders not to strike the temple; the jotuns needed at least one large building intact to shelter their wounded; another punishment to the populace, for the frost giants believed that intentionally letting blood flow in this place was sacrilege. The Casket of Ancient Winters was safely in his possession as well, and soon he and his armies would leave this realm to their ice, stone and sorrow. Cowed and beaten, unable to rise against Midgard, or any realm again. As powerless as Svartalfheim, who would have backed Laufey's armies, for the dark elves and the giants had always been comrades, but a plague was raging on their realm, leaving the jotun as they should be; without allies and isolated. 

The Allfather approached the altar, just on the off-chance that the Casket he had been given was not the true weapon, but a clever decoy. A flicker of movement caught his eye and, without stopping to think, or even to assess what it was, he hurled his long bladed knife towards the creature. Half a second later, a female jotun fell to the ground, his weapon embedded in her throat. The ice spear on her arm slowly melting as her ruby-red eyes glassed over in death. “Damn it.” He strode over to the corpse and yanked his knife free, wiping it clean on the jotun's tunic. Just as he returned the weapon to its scabbard, a sound cut through the still air. A muffled plaintive wailing that came from somewhere to his left. Frowning, he turned and walked towards the sound, trying to place it. It sounded more angry than scared, but it still struck Odin in the heart, and as he came to a small alcove, he saw the bundle of furs. “Strange.” He pulled the top pelt away and found the source; a frost giant babe.

It was too small; far too small, in Odin's mind. Not much bigger than Thor had been as a newborn. He slid his hands into the furs and picked the babe up. The lines on his skin told him instantly who this was; Laufey's son. He gave the child a smile as he stopped crying, and, as the babe made eye contact with him, the blue of his skin began to fade and turn cream, the red eyes going green. “What a clever little lad you are.” His smile grew stronger, then glanced to the body a few feet away. Not his mother, surely; the nursemaid. He shook his head. Foolish woman. “You're too powerful to leave here.” He looked down into the babe's eyes – and then saw Asgard in ruins. 

The vision nearly drove him to his knees, as he could see the smoke rising from the city, of chaos and people dying. 

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, and when he could think again, he heard the boy making cooing noises at him. In any other infant, he might see it as sweet or precious, but on this day, whatever compassion that may have been in the Allfather's heart and whatever reason that could have stayed his hand were silenced by the darker part of him; the ruthless warrior and the prideful king.“I'll not be swayed by your wicked silver words.” He tossed the babe back towards the furs, and the boy began howling as he landed, this time in pain. Odin staggered back, found his footing and strode out of the temple as quickly as he could; his face set in stone. 

It was time to take his army home and celebrate their victory.

*  
Loptr, son of Laufey, wept in fear and pain – as he did, a solitary tear fell from his cheek and through a crack within a stone, and into the dirt of Jötunheimr. Far across the stars, Thor, son of Odin, was struck by an errant almond, falling from a tree. In response, the toddler, just adept enough at walking to get around without assistance, began to cry – and a tear from his cheek slipped into the dirt of Asgard. 

The Norns had seen Odin change their plans – and so, began to reweave their great tapestry in a new design.

*

Laufey came into the temple, already worried. He trusted Loptr's nursemaid, Heljaih, to protect his son from the Æsir, and he wanted to have the two of them out of the temple before it was turned into a hospital. The damage wasn't as bad as he feared; just the windows gone. He had only gone two steps within when he noticed the body lying near the altar. “What?” Despite the injury to his leg and the worry for his people, he ran up the aisle, his heart hammering in his chest. He rolled the form over, and stared into the lifeless face of the last jotun defending the crown prince of Jötunheimr.

“Loptr.” He whispered, and then he heard the whimper, and his heart ached in relief. He rose to his feet and went to the bundle of furs, and the feeling of elation that overtook him fell away. “What has happened to you, my son?” He scooped up the furs, trying to tell himself that he was imagining the strange angle of his son's arms and legs, the blood on his face; this was all some sort of nightmare, it had to be. “Oh, my boy...” He fell to a sit, his heart shattering. “My precious, precious gem...” 

“Your majesty?” General Thrym's voice came from a great distance, and he could not raise his head to look towards it. He swallowed hard before answering.

“Where is Jora?” He could not stand for more bad news. “Where is the queen?”

“Awaiting you in the citadel.” He replied and a shadow fell over the king. “What has happened?”

In that moment, Laufey could see what transpired in the temple as clearly as if he had been present. “The Allfather has murdered an innocent female and has maimed my son.” He rose to his feet. “They call us monsters when even their king treats the smallest and helpless no better than common trash.” He gently cupped his hands, and Loptr's tears slowly abated as he fell into sleep. “Make the temple ready for the wounded, Thrym. I will return once I have delivered my son to his mother.” He lifted his head towards Heljaih. “Take her body to the warrior's pyre. She died in defense of this realm and of the future king.” 

The general bowed. “Yes, your majesty.” 

Laufey, with his son still safely cupped in his hands, strode out of the temple, his heart somewhat calmed by the fact that despite his injuries, his son was still alive. He wouldn't have put it past Odin to kill his son without compunction. No doubt the Allfather had intended for Loptr to die; he must have hoped that the fall would be fatal, but his little gem was a survivor. And it could have been worse; the king of Asgard could have stolen his boy. 

That was a fate worse than death. 

*

Ingrid was at her wit's end. She had tried everything she could think of to sooth her charge, but Prince Thor would not stop crying. She'd gone over him, trying to find the source of his pain, but was all for not. He wasn't gassy, hungry, wet, or even injured. She adjusted her hold on him, settling into the rocking chair, rubbing his back. “Oh, come now, princeling, there's nothing to be carrying on about.” The nanny kissed his forehead. “You're going to wear yourself out and then you'll miss the celebrations.” 

“Is he still upset?” The Allmother's voiced caused her to start.

“I beg your pardon your majesty...” She started to stand but stopped when she saw Queen Frigga hold out her arms. 

“Let's see if I can help some.” She took Thor into her arms, and his wailing fell to whimpers. “Oh, now this is a surprise.” She looked at Ingrid. “You can't find anything wrong with him?”

“No, your majesty. He's just been...” She shook her head. “He's been this way since we left the gardens, and I checked him all over, he's not been stung by a bee, or bitten by an insect. All that happened was that an almond fell on him, but that was hours ago, and it didn't even leave a mark. Every time I've tried to ask him what's wrong, he just says that everything hurts.” 

“Strange.” She adjusted her hold and kissed her son's hair. “Growing pains shouldn't bother him this long either.” She brushed her hand down his back. “I'm surprised he hasn't cried himself to sleep yet. By now, he must be exhausted.” She gave Ingrid a warm smile. “Why don't you hurry off to bed? I'll stay here until Rebecca arrives.” 

She gave the queen a grateful look. “Are you certain, your majesty? The nighttime nanny won't be here for another hour, at least.” 

“Oh, we'll be fine.” She gave her son a smile. “Won't we?” 

Thor's response was to stuff his hand into his mouth and stare.

She bobbed a curtsey. “Good night, your majesty.” She brushed Thor's hair. “Good night, little prince.” 

He pulled his hand away. “Nite nite, Nanny Ing.” His voice was hoarse and looked up at his mother. “Hungry.” 

Frigga threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, now you're going to cheer up? Usually it's been the other way around, and you cry when she leaves.” 

Thor gave his mother a pouting look as Ingrid slipped from the nursery and leaned against the door, letting out a breath she didn't know that she was holding. Perhaps the prince was overtired, or she had overlooked something. Hopefully, he'd be back to his usual happy self in the morning. She hoped Rebecca's night was peaceful. 

*  
Jora shifted her hold on her infant son, a smile on her lips as he nursed. His arms and legs were bound to his body with cloths, and he was swaddled in furs, almost unable to move. She had hated that Laufey had kept the two of them apart during the battle, but the king feared for both of them, thinking them safer apart than together. Her Loptr had suffered a grievous fall, his appendages broken. He would heal, but it wasn't certain how well his would recover in terms of mobility. They wouldn't know for several weeks. She brushed his smooth forehead, rather amused as he shifted from the blue of his father to the cream of her own skin. “My precious little gem.” 

“How is he?” Laufey came into the nursery and knelt next to her chair, lifting a fur pelt around her. 

“His appetite hasn't changed.” She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “Why would anyone want to harm a baby? Any baby?”

“I cannot tell you that love.” He kissed the top of her head. “I just thank the Norns that you are both alive and safe.” 

“How fares the rest of Jötunheimr?” She gently shifted Loptr from her right breast to her left, smiling as he latched on almost instantly. 

“We will survive. For now, we must rest and recover, and then we will rebuild.” He let out a sigh. “I see now that you were right. I should have left the two of you together.” 

“There is no way you could have known what would happen. It could be far worse had we been together.” She shook her head. “If I could have escaped off realm with Loptr, I would have.”

“I know that, love.” He sighed. “I suppose Asgard asking us why we attacked Midgard in the first place is unreasonable.”

She let out a delicate snort. “Those Midgardians killed two jotun youths who had unknowingly wandered into their realm. We might have overlooked it, if they had just left it at that... but what they did to the bodies...” She closed her eyes, remembering the image of the two heads on spikes, the children of Midgard throwing rocks at them for sport.

“Don't think on it.” He rose and went over to the bed, arranging the pelts before going over to the empty hearth. “Soon it will be winter, and the Sleep will come for us.” He flicked his wrist, and instantly, a blaze sprung up in front of him.

Jora nodded. “Things will look better on the other side of that season. They usually do.” She gave him a smile and then looked back down as she felt her son drift off to sleep. “What are you doing?” She rose to her feet as Laufey stood in front of the fire, holding his hands towards the flames. “Laufey...” 

He held one arm out towards her, and she fell silent as his body slowly began to shrink as it was exposed to the heat, his body compacting down from its normal sixteen foot tall frame. “I will be fine, my love.” He lifted his head, letting out a small groan as his spine shifted. “You two get settled, I will join you shortly.” 

She held Loptr against her shoulder as she took up the lantern and went over to the bed, setting their babe down before adjusting things in their nest, cradling the babe to her chest. The thick furs were soft and warm, and as she laid down, she was hit with a wave of exhaustion. Today had been long and terrible. She was on the edge of sleep when she was aware of the light being extinguished and then she felt Laufey's arms wrap around the pair of them, his chin resting on her head. While he was still a towering eight feet tall, when he was like this, it was almost easy to forget his true size. “I love you.” She mumbled against his chest, feeling completely safe for the first time since the sun rose.

“I love you too. Both of you.” He answered and together, the three of them went to their rest.

Neither Jora nor Laufey saw the face watching them from the fire.

*  
Thor snuggled under his blankets, his face pressed into his pillow, the heavy drapes blocking out the sound of the early victory celebrations outside. He didn't feel bad anymore – he'd felt awful almost all day. Everything hurt, but he had not been bleeding – but he just felt terrible. After he'd eaten, he'd felt better, and Mama had put him to bed, she almost never did that, it was usually Nanny Bec. He yawned and kept his eyes closed as he felt someone, Mama, most likely, because the hand was so soft, stroke his hair as he drifted off. He didn't understand what she was saying, Mama didn't know Nanny Bec's songs.

Skuld sat at the bedside of Thor Odinson, smoothing down his blond locks, feeling neither sad nor happy – the future had changed, and she could only hope that this new world that the Universe had no idea was new, ended the way it should.

“Innocent blood split, tears shed at the same time. Bound in soul, and connected until the end of time. A bond unknown, but when moon and sun bear arms together and brothers themselves proclaim, then peace shall come to the Nine, and all will stand united until the end of time.” She pressed a kiss onto the boy's temple – the same place she had left a kiss on Loptr not moments ago. “Born to be kings, and the greatest kings you will both be.” 

With that, the Norn faded out of the nursery, and the universe stepped forward into the unknown.


End file.
